Anne Herridge

Sharing God's heart through poetry, prose and prayer


Guardians of peace, young and old
Around the cenotaph enfold,
Rank upon rank in uniformed row,
Standing in silence, heads bowed low,
Honouring comrades, their memories strong,
With stories of battle through decades long

In this moment their thoughts travel back through time,
To a beach, to a field, laid with mortars and mines,
To a ship; ashen seas with ‘planes overhead,
To a trench, to crude graves where they buried their dead,
To their brothers, their friends, to their fathers and sons,
To their girlfriends, their mothers, their sisters, their young

Warriors old, are stooped and frail,
Hands clinging tightly to cenotaph rail,
Yet as anthems arise, fragile bones revive
Those not upstanding, find they can rise,
Strength returns to weak aged limbs,
As pride takes hold of the spirit within

Elderly veterans stand tall once again,
United for peace and the memory of kin,
No longer bent, or weakened and worn,
Shoulders now straight, and vigour reborn,
Tears of pride mist many a face,
Eyes full of memories, flooded with grace

As Last Post resounds, not a soul stands alone,
For there alongside are soldiers unknown,
Those who were lost in foreign lands,
Struck down far from home in the filth and the sand,
Beside them too, other heroes of old,
Not seen by the world, but young, strong and bold,

The uniforms dated from many years past,
With posthumous medals, gleaming with brass,
They number the thousands, unseen by our eyes
Loaned from the heavens where death stands defied,
For a warrior’s spirit can never be crushed,
Voices of peace will never be hushed

Guardians of peace, young and old
Standing in unity with burdens untold,
Rank upon rank in uniforms grey,
Reflecting in silence on Armistice Day,
On the freedom they purchased through history long,
Warriors of righteousness whose spirits live on!

© Anne Herridge 2018



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